


Thicker Than Water

by lunadesangre



Series: Little Miracles [3]
Category: Law & Order: Special Victims Unit, Oz (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Twins, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-12
Updated: 2011-11-12
Packaged: 2017-10-25 23:15:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/275926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunadesangre/pseuds/lunadesangre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Brian and Ryan... How sickeningly </i>cute<i> – had they grown up together. As it is, now, it just sounds like a very bad joke instead.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Thicker Than Water

**Author's Note:**

> Cliché, cliché, cliché... But why doesn't it seem to exist for these two?  
> Set around the middle of the first season of Oz.

It’s a bad idea. Brian’s known since he first saw that face on his computer monitor – stared in disbelief at that carbon copy of himself gone very fucking wrong, rapsheet pages and pages long – that actually going to _meet_ him would be a really bad idea. But he can’t just pretend he’s never found out – he _has_. And even if he’s a cop and his...brand new twin brother (God, how strange that _sounds!_ ) is a criminal – a hardened criminal _in for life_ – Brian can’t just ignore his existence. It’s just not in his nature.

He’s toyed with the idea of taking advantage of his badge to get a private room, but in the end he just dons jeans and a hoodie and goes through the regular visitors entrance. Low profile, that’s better, right? After all, he’s heard enough horror stories about this place, he doesn’t know what kind of consequences having a cop for a twin brother would have on Ryan. ( _Brian and Ryan_... How sickeningly _cute_ – had they grown up together. As it is, now, it just sounds like a very bad joke instead.)

He’s put on sunglasses, but he can’t really keep them inside without looking really suspicious. And of course, all the guards are giving him very weirded-out looks; he’s been expecting that, but it doesn’t make it any less embarrassing.

He's decided on going in first thing in the morning to try to avoid having a roomful of people around – and straight for a face to face meeting, no glass wall and no phone, because it still feels completely surreal and it just wouldn’t be real enough otherwise. It seems he’s in luck: he’s probably the first visitor in or something, because the room the guards lead him in is empty. Brian ignores all possible strategic retreat points and takes a seat in the farthest corner to wait, feeling horribly anxious and desperately trying not to show it.

He gets a glimpse of Ryan through the binds on the windows two seconds before he walks through the door, stopping short staring at Brian, wide-eyed and frozen. Brian smiles at him weakly just as the guard who brought Ryan pushes him in roughly, grumbling something Brian doesn’t catch. Ryan stumbles to the chair in front of Brian and all but collapses in it with a slightly shaky laugh. “They said _my brother_ , I was – expecting _Cyril_.”

“No, I’m...” Brian frowns as Ryan titles his head slightly, taking him in with something close to awe. Awe and not disbelief, which doesn’t make _sense_ , unless –

“Brian,” Ryan says with a shaky awed grin, not even making it a question.

“You _knew?_ ” Brian all but explodes, nerves and disbelief finally giving out.

Ryan bites his lower lip, leaning forward, both hands on the table. “I didn’t know you were _alive_ , I saw _your grave_ when we – and Dad just said you died real fast after they brought us home, that’s all I know.” It’s disbelieving and awed still, and there’s something...soft...creeping in his eyes, that has _no_ place in a lifer’s face – but _in a brother’s?_ Brian is torn between giddy and wary – he’s never had a brother before, but he’s a _cop_ , for fuck’s sake, and Ryan is a _lifer_. And it still doesn't make sense.

“And...what, it doesn’t shock you? That you saw my grave, and I’m alive?” Oh yeah, disbelief. Brian can’t warp his mind around it – that Ryan would know about his dead twin brother shouldn’t have surprised him that much, but that Ryan accepts it, just like that? ...Then again, they look _exactly_ the same. Minus Ryan’s sideburns.

Ryan just shrugs. “Dad’s full of shit. What the fuck did he _do_ , sell you?” Matter of fact, like it wouldn’t actually surprise him if he had. Jesus. Brian’s seen Seamus O’Reily’s records, he knows Ryan must have had a tough childhood, but still, _that_ bad?

He shakes the thought away, they don’t actually have much time. “No, there was some kind of mixup at the hospital. Another baby named Brian. Brian Cassidy.”

Ryan’s eyebrows fly up. “And the nurses were fucking high? ‘Cause how the fuck do you mix up O’Reily with _Cassidy_?”

Brian snorts. “Apparently the maternity ward was full and babies look alike. Plus, _it’s Irish_.” And the staff probably _was_ at least drunk, and definitely incompetent.

“You went there?” Ryan asks with an amused half-smile, like he can picture it for the disaster it was.

“Yeah,” Brian answers with a slight grimace, remembering.

Slight pause; Ryan looks like he’s coming up with a thousand questions all at once and can’t figure out which one to ask first. “That’s your name then? Cassidy?”

“Yeah.” God, Brian’s going to have to tell his parents he’s not really their son – that their real son is _dead_. There’s another pause as he stays silent, unconsciously mirroring Ryan’s lip biting, and Ryan looks at the identical scar on Brian’s chin and almost snorts in incredulous laughter. Brian’s thoughts are swirling all around his brain in an impossible-to-catch manner; there’s not going to be enough time. “I...” he starts, then in a rush: “Would you agree to genetic tests? You know, just to be sure?”

Ryan nods without an hesitation, drinking Brian’s every little twitches in. (It’s like looking at a very inquisitive mirror, only the image isn’t reversed and they don’t shave the same way.) “Yeah. Fuck, yeah, sure.” Wide grin, but it looks...sharper than when Brian does it. “How’d’you found out?”

Brian almost laughs, but it’s half-strained. “Apparently, from one of your boys, who thought I busted out of jail and offered to hide me for a while.” Deep breath, as Ryan actually looks amused – and intrigued at Brian’s sarcastic tone. He guesses a regular guy would be more horrified than sarcastic when being mistaken for an escaped convict gang leader, and now Ryan must be wondering what the hell Brian _does_ that it doesn’t phase him all that much. There’s only two possibilities really, and Brian wonders if Ryan is even _considering_ the second one as a viable option. Well, here goes nothing. “He’s lucky I didn’t bust him on the spot.”

Ryan’s eyes narrow a bit, though the smile doesn’t fade. “What? Don’t tell me you’re _a cop_.” It isn’t as aggressive as Brian was bracing himself for – in fact, it’s not at all. It’s incredulous bordering on amused.

“I am, actually.” Brian fights the grin trying to take over his face, loosing the battle and ending up making a strange amused grimace. It’s _insane_.

Ryan...explodes in laughter – there’s no other word for it, really – and Brian really can’t help joining him. Completely insane. So far from what he was expecting, coming here, it’s like he stepped into another dimension. He’s seen Ryan’s previous, read it all, over and over, hoping it would somehow be less long on the next reading, feeling only slightly grateful there was no mention of anything sex-crime-related anywhere. Thefts, drugs, vehicular manslaughters, reckless endangerments. Life, up for parole in twelve years. His twin brother. He’d come here expecting the devil.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Ryan snickers between breaths, slumping toward Brian on the table, like he wants to get closer still to check how real Brian is, “Where, not New York, right? And please don’t say narcotics. I assume you saw my rapsheet.”

Brian shakes his head, but he’s not sure if he’s doing it at the utter insanity of the situation or at the second of Ryan’s questions. “Manhattan, sex crimes.”

Ryan grimaces. “ _Sex crimes?_ Isn’t that the worse unit?”

“We get rapists off the street,” Brian cooly answers, suddenly defensive. “It’s important.”

“Whoa, wait, I never said it wasn’t, fuck, of course it’s important. It’s just I know those kinds of scum, I don’t even want to fucking imagine dealing with – all that.” It’s rushed and almost vehement, Ryan’s disgust of _those kinds of scum_ clear. (Or, at least, Brian wants very badly to believe so.)

“You mean that?”

“What?”

“You know. The scum part.”

“Yeah. I can’t stand rapists.” It’s quiet but intense, and sincere, Brian would stake his life on it. (At the very least, he’s aware he’s staking his heart on it right now.) “They’re just – fuck, sex should be fun, you know? On both ends. Otherwise it’s just – fucking evil. No one deserves that shit. Well, except maybe the sadistic scumfucks that did that in the first place. Shame you can’t fucking castrate them.”

There’s an awkward pause where Brian is abruptly reminded that _the sadistic scumfucks_ get sent to places like this here now, where Ryan is locked in too. It’s an horrible jolt.

“Brian?”

Realizing he’s been staring at Ryan for a few seconds not moving, Brian tries to shake himself out of it. “Yeah?”

“You okay?” And he looks and sounds like he cares about it.

“Yeah. Uh, I guess I wasn’t expecting you to feel that strongly about it.” A bit self-conscious and apologetic.

Ryan doesn’t get offended, he just answers quietly instead. “Because of my rapsheet. You thought I wouldn’t give a fuck, right?”

“Sorry.” Biting his lips with a weak smile.

Ryan shrugs it off. “It’s okay. I’m glad you came here anyway. It’s nice to know one of us turned out good. Real good.” Quietly, with a smile at that last part, and Brian is _sure_ it’s the truth. (He’s so fucked if it isn’t.)

When the time is up, they’ve barely scratched the surface of all they want to say and ask. (Ryan’s fired questions after questions about Brian’s tastes, childhood, dating habits. He’s asked about the scar on Brian’s chin and Brian told him the embarrassing story: untied shoelaces and a pointy rock when he was ten – and Ryan’s laughed and only said his was from a broken bottle, going back to firing questions. They’ve danced around the subjects of Brian’s job and Ryan’s incarceration.) Brian gets up and holds out a hand, but instead of shaking it, Ryan hugs him – like it’s the most natural thing in the world to do with a brother. He smells like cheap soap and sweat, his hair tickles Brian’s nose, and Brian’s not sure which one of them is clinging the tighter.

They don’t let go until the guard coming to take Ryan back yells at them to break it off. Brian’s planned ahead to leave Ryan a way of contacting him that wouldn’t be harmful if found: a simple piece of paper with his first name and his phone number. He takes it out of his jeans and deliberately shows it to the guard before handing it to Ryan. “New phone number.” Like they _haven’t_ just found each other; it’s no one else’s business in this place. “Don’t forget to call me.”

He gets a downright blinding smile, and wonders if he ever looks like that.

Back to his car, past all the security checks, he still can’t quite wrap his mind around it. _His brother_ , in such a place, giving him such a smile. It’s absurd and completely insane, and Brian should know better, given his job, but he can’t help feeling grateful: his brother. His _brother_. _His_ brother.

He’s looking forward to Ryan’s phone call.


End file.
